[BL] Transmigrated as the Villain CEO's Mermaid Secretary

Neville saw that and heat crawled up from his neck to his cheeks. His lips were still tingling from the phantom sensation of Grayson’s lips on him. The faint taste of the man’s pheromones still lingered on his tongue.

Dangerously addictive.

Neville turned around so fast his neck nearly cracked.

He needed to put distance between them and breathe.

Neville glanced at the holographic clock projected on Grayson’s desk—they needed to work now.

The moment he tried to move, Neville forgot that he was still sitting on Grayson’s lap and suddenly became aware of something else. There was something warm and hard underneath him. The realization of what it was made him even more desperate.

Get up. Get up right now.

Neville put both hands on the armrests and pushed—or tried to.

His arms were trembling under his own negligible weight. His legs weren’t faring much better either.

Whether it was because of the intense kissing session or simply because he was an omega exposed to an alpha pheromone.

It didn’t matter.

Just as his feet managed land on the floor, two hands closed around his waist.

Warm, firm, and definitely unyielding.

Grayson pulled him back naturally. Neville felt his back close in contact with Grayson’s solid wall of a chest. Those muscular arms locked around him, securing him in place with no way to get out.

The embrace was so warm and secure that he felt like melting.

It would have been almost romantic.

Almost.

If not for the now very obvious, very hard problem completely pressing against the small of his behind.

Neville’s blush burst in embarrassment.

He didn’t turn around.

He refused to and stared resolutely at the floor.

"What," Neville said through gritted teeth and red nape, "do you think you’re doing?"

His voice came out steadier than he expected.

He didn’t hear Grayson’s answer.

Instead, he felt Grayson move, and Neville felt Grayson’s head settle onto his left shoulder. He could feel Grayson’s warm breath against his neck. It sent a shiver down Neville’s body, making him hot all over.

Neville tried to suppress it with every ounce of willpower he had.

"We’re at work," Neville said flatly, reasoning with the unreasonable man behind him.

"Mm." Grayson’s hum vibrated against his shoulder. The sound was low, warm, and utterly noncommittal.

Neville’s eye twitched, and he tried to get away by putting force on the armrests again. Pushed again and again with everything he had.

But no matter what, his hand just trembled after lifting his body about three inches up until his strength gave out, and he sank right back down.

This damned omega body. What was the point of all those hours of exercising if it would only be useless against his own alpha—

His own alpha.

The thought hit him like a bomb, and he blushed hard.

When had that possessive little pronoun wormed its way into his brain?

He felt a wave of lightheadedness as he thought about it.

During this whole internal drama, Grayson said nothing.

Neville could feel the curve of Grayson’s lips against his shoulder.

The bastard was enjoying his every expression, every failed escape attempt, every reaction thereafter. Grayson seemed to find satisfaction watching him all the time.

In hot silence, it seemed that Grayson had become restless. His thumbs traced idle circles against Neville’s hipbones through his shirt. It made Neville’s stomach tremble in the sensation, making him squirm a little.

Neville felt his mouth watering, his body burning in need again. He tried to open his mouth to say something to harsh to stop Grayson, only to feel Grayson’s ragged breathing against his neck.

Grayson was nuzzling the curve of his neck, giving it ticklish light kisses. Neville knew that if this went on, they would go on another round of rough, heated kisses.

So, Neville abruptly turned around.

But he forgot.

Grayson’s head was resting on his left shoulder.

The moment he whipped his head around to face Grayson with a resolute face.

He was met with Grayson’s face up close, with their lips inevitably landing on each other again.

Neville’s eyes were wide.

Grayson’s were wider.

They both went completely still at the sudden contact, and that lasted for half a heartbeat.

It was slightly off mark, around the corner of Grayson’s mouth, but it didn’t matter.

Neville felt Grayson’s lips curl up against his before he saw Grayson close his eyes. Grayson’s hand came up to cup the back of his head, and he kissed him properly.

Neville’s brain made one last attempt at rational thought, but then gave up completely after the next second.

Fine, he thought. If the only way to get this beast to settle down was to satisfy him once and for all, then I’ll satisfy him.

Neville kissed back. His fingers crawled up into the fabric of Grayson’s collar. Then, he looped his arms around Grayson’s neck and pulled him closer.

This time was much hotter, deeper, and more intoxicating than earlier.

Grayson’s hand slid from the back of his head to the curve of his jaw, angling him deeper into the kiss. Neville’s fingers tangled in the dark hair at Grayson’s nape, grip tightening in need that surprised even him.

And then the pheromones began to leak.

No pheromone patch was able to hold it back anymore.

Grayson’s freshwater pheromones flooded the office that made Neville’s toes curl. His own pheromones answered involuntarily. The ocean pheromones leaked out and entangled with Grayson’s pheromones until the entire room smelled like the place where rivers met the sea.

They kissed until they were breathless. Until Neville’s lungs burned and his lips felt painful, swollen, and every nerve in his body was strung tight.

They couldn’t think rationally as they burned in heat and want and the maddening press of Grayson’s body against his.

They didn’t stop because they were satisfied.

They stopped because they were both uncomfortably, undeniably hard, and the door to the CEO’s office was not locked.

The realization poured like a bucket of ice water.

Anyone could walk in.

So, Neville decisively pulled back, and Grayson just let him, albeit reluctantly, judging by the way his fingers lingered on Neville’s jaw, dragging across skin like he was memorizing the shape of it.

They stared at each other.

Flushed. Breathing hard. Lips reddened, swollen, and slick.

Neville swallowed, but his throat was dry.

His voice came out low and rough, "Is the punishment over?"

Grayson blinked and raised his head slightly, tilting it to one side with confusion. Then suddenly realized what Neville was talking about.

Right. The punishment.

Their unspoken rule was that every time they found themselves in an awkward situation, one of them would put out a punishment.

Grayson’s lips curved in a smirk. It started at one corner of his mouth and then widened, transforming his sharp features from handsome-but-intimidating to drop-dead attractive.

"...No?" he said.

Neville narrowed his eyes.

He pressed his lips together in a thin, displeased line.

Grayson kissed it without warning or hesitation. He simply leaned forward and pressed his mouth to those tight lips, quick and light as a stolen breath.

Neville jerked back, eyes wide. He stared at Grayson with an expression that clearly demanded an explanation, but no words actually made it out.

Then, Grayson leaned in again.

Neville’s eyes fluttered shut. His chin lifted a fraction as a surrender, bracing for another press of lips against his own.

But the kiss landed on his temple.

Soft and feather-light, tender in a way that his firm self crumbled in an instant.

Neville’s eyes snapped open and blinked once. Twice. Confusion rippled across his face.

Grayson watched his micro-expressions with fascination.

Then he leaned in again, one on the left cheek, then at the right cheek, making Neville blush again.

Neville furrowed his brow in soft annoyance. He didn’t seem to realize that the irritation had melted into something expectant.

Waiting for Grayson to do something.

The way his eyes followed Grayson’s movements, the subtle forward tilt of his body, the barely-parted lips.

Everything in his expression was asking where next?

Grayson laughed, watching this happen. His eyes crinkled at the corners, bright with delight.

Neville’s heart did something complicated and structurally unsound.

"What are you laughing at?" he demanded. The words came out softer than intended. Making him pout unconsciously in realization.

Grayson shook his head, still smiling with a helpless, disarming smile.

Then he kissed the pout right off Neville’s lips.

This man, really, Neville thought with a despair that was rapidly losing its battle against fondness.

He felt it. Grayson moved again.

Grayson leaned in for another kiss.

This kissing demon had found his rhythm, and he had absolutely no intention of stopping.

The moment the thought came to him, Neville’s hands shot up.

Both palms pressed flat against Grayson’s mouth, squishing his lips into a vaguely fish-like expression. The dignified CEO of Maxwell Corporation looked, for one glorious moment, utterly ridiculous.

"We have work," Neville said. His voice was firm without shaking. "There are things that need to be done, Mr. Maxwell."